So We Don't Have to Be Apart
by dfriendly
Summary: Guinevere is kissing him again. PWP


**Title: **So We Don't Have to Be Apart

**Show: **_Merlin _

**Characters/Pairings: **Gwen/Arthur

**Rating: **NC-17

**Word Count:** 1457

**Spoilers:** Some vague S2 references.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Merlin_ or its characters. If I did… the characters would be getting a whole lot freakier. ;)

**Summary:** Guinevere is kissing him again. PWP

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Guinevere is kissing him again.

Sometimes it is soft and tender like their first kiss. Other times it's frantic and hungry like how he often imagines grabbing and kissing her when he sees her.

But this time it is slow and deep and passionate. Her hand threads through his hair to upturn his chin as she hovers above him… naked. It's like when she had landed on top of him to save him from the gargoyle months ago, only _so much better_.

He wants to touch her, to reach out and feel the curves outlined so beautifully by her bodices. And when he does, pulling her closer so that her breasts brush against his body, she gasps his name into his mouth.

_Arthur. _

He's come to yearn for the sound of her voice. His ears seem trained to it, picking up her hushed whispers to Morgana during court. Even if he can't make out her words, the tone of it is enough.

But how she says his name is especially pleasant. He's never heard his name caressed like that, and he doesn't even think she does it on purpose, that it just comes naturally to her. Or maybe he is just being daft and it is merely the fact that it is _her_ who says it.

Like right now, as she keeps moaning it between kisses. All he can manage in return is a low and husky _Gwen… Gwen_…

Finally she breaks apart for air to return to their lungs. But not for long, because now she's looking at him and his breath has been stolen away again.

Her hair is up, and although that means he can't run his hands through it (_yet_) the moonlight is able to fall on her face and light up her eyes. And her eyes… sometimes he doesn't know how he's able to tear himself away from them whenever his gaze wanders to her and finds her looking back.

She's holding her mouth slightly open, like she usually does when she's dumbstruck by her own actions. But this time her mouth looks even better than its usual full, supple self because now her lips are deliciously swollen from their kissing. The need to pull one of them between his teeth is overwhelming.

Which is exactly what he does, giving her a quick kiss, his mouth then slipping over her bottom lip, nibbling it gently and smoothing it over with his tongue before letting it go. She then sucks the piece of flesh between her own teeth, as she smiles – shy but pleased.

He scoots a little farther down the bed and she watches questioningly, perhaps wondering what he's doing. But then he reaches up to latch his mouth onto her hanging breast and she cries out.

Her chest heaves against him as his mouth works on her and he feels one of her hands lace haphazardly into his hair. He props himself up on one elbow, his other hand caressing her breast before gliding over her back as if to keep her close. When he shifts his head to attend to her other breast, his hand slides along her back, over the curve of her bottom, and down the back of her thigh. At this, he feels her shiver and smiles at the sound of her quiet gasping.

As he runs his hands back up the inside of her thigh, he is surprised – and pleased – to find a trickle of wetness near her core. So he takes this as a sign and continues his hand's journey upward, lightly teasing around her folds.

For a moment, she tenses and he's afraid that she'll shy away, that he's gone too far. But then her inner-boldness wins out and she's pressing back against his hand, her action asking him for more.

So he rolls her off of him and onto her back, tucking himself next to her on his left side. He resumes their kissing as his right hand trails over her stomach, stroking it. And slowly, feeling Guinevere's breath hitching at his progress, his hand travels down, through her curls, and between her legs.

He runs his fingers over her folds again, more deliberately than last time, and feels her right thigh tremble against his. Then he slips his middle finger inside her so she gasps, hips gently pressing against his hand as it pumps into her.

He feels her left hand come up to his bicep, gripping it tightly. Her other arm is already bent up and fingers splayed against his chest, twitching and dancing over the coarse hair there.

When he withdraws his finger, he hears a sound of disappointment from her throat. But that sound immediately becomes a gasp as he trails his wet finger to her clit. She stops kissing him as he rubs her and when he pulls his head back a bit, he can see how her lower lip shakes as quiet mewls escape her. She must know that he's watching her, because she then opens her eyes to meet him and he swallows thickly at how her gaze always seems to affect him.

"Arthur?" she whispers.

It sounds like a question, but he doesn't know what she's asking until her right arm unfolds from stroking at his chest to run her hand over where his erection is pressed up against her thigh.

He shudders and nods furiously, unable to speak. So she feels for the string on the waist of his breeches and unties it as they both shifts their hips a bit to free his erection trapped against her, slipping him out to rest on her leg.

Her hand is a little unsure and fumbling, not that he really cares, because Guinevere is still touching his cock and that's brilliant in itself. But she must recognize his panting as a sign she's doing something right, because her confidence gains and she grips him more surely. Arthur buries his forehead in the hair by her ear and grunts, trying to keep his fingers between her legs from shaking as her strokes become steady.

Their hands and arms are a jumble between their bodies and he's not sure how they manage around the awkward angles and without bumping into each other. But somehow they do so he doesn't question it.

For several minutes, it's just the sound of their heavy breathing and occasional moans. Arthur's torn between enjoying her hand on him and concentrating on pleasuring her. It's a challenge for both of them, which he can tell from how her hand stutters with each small quake of her body. Soon he feels her head snap back and she's mumbling something that he doesn't realize at first is his name. The rhythm of her hand on him is disjointed and frantic but the increase in tempo surprises him and he can feel the pressure building inside him as well. So now he's trying to hold onto his own impending orgasm and bring her to hers, both of them racing to finish each other and themselves.

He's muttering things now in her ear; he's not entirely sure what besides saying her name several times in between. She's turned her head toward him, her temple touching his forehead, her voice whispering breathlessly over his cheek to answer him and repeat his name. He presses imperfect kisses along her jaw in return.

If he can just hold on a little longer…

They come together, convulsing against each other, bodies shaking as they ride the feeling out. Then they slowly untense, relaxing into each other. His hand moves up to wrap lightly around her waist and he pulls away just enough so that he can see her face properly. She turns her head to see him, pleasantly tracing the line of his jaw with her fingers.

What makes him happiest, though, is her smile, sweet and content.

"That was…" she sighs, before shaking her head to communicate her loss of words, her smile growing wider.

Arthur leans in to place a kiss on her lips. "Wonderful," he murmurs.

She briefly lowers her eyes and he wonders if he would see a faint pink on her cheeks if his room wasn't so dark.

"It was," she answers. She's looking back up at him now, and he finds for the thousandth time how much he likes it when she does. It makes him feel so…

"Guinevere," he whispers softly, the words feeling right and warm on his lips, "I love you."

Then the dream dissolves and by morning he can only remember fragments and flashes, but not where his mind had finally figured out the feelings burning inside him.

It will take him much longer before he can admit that to himself again.

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**A/N:** So I had no idea what to title this & started looking up quotes about dreaming. Then I found this:

"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can [be] together all night!" – Hobbes from Bill Watterson's _Calvin and Hobbes_.


End file.
